


Break Your Chains

by ImLikeALightswitch



Series: Aed is a Bastard [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Coldharbour (Elder Scrolls), Dumbass Is Afraid Of A Vvardvark, Local Man Harasses Wildlife, Vvardenfell (Elder Scrolls), Worm Cult (Elder Scrolls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImLikeALightswitch/pseuds/ImLikeALightswitch
Summary: A Dunmer Ex-Worm Cultist flees Coldharbour post-Planesmeld, risking his life for freedom on Nirn. Unfortunately, having been born and raised in Coldharbour, he has no idea what he's doing.
Series: Aed is a Bastard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024791
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Break Your Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: This went through at least five drafts before I finally decided to post it. Apologies if not much seems to happen, this will end up being a series and it starts rather slowly but things will eventually take off.
> 
> Any advice or constructive criticism is VERY MUCH welcome and appreciated! I'm not the greatest writer and I've never shared my writing on a platform like this before.
> 
> This series will take place in the setting of the Elder Scrolls Online. I'll try my best to keep everyone filled in if they haven't played the game before.
> 
> Rough context for those who haven't played or aren't familiar, the Elder Scrolls Online takes place before any of the other games so things are weird. The main story is that Molag Bal is attempting to pull Nirn into his realm of Coldharbour and enslave all men and mer with Mannimarco and the Worm Cult at his side, meanwhile all of the men and mer of Nirn are completely ignoring this because they're busy fighting over who gets to control Tamriel, because the end of the world just isn't that important. Good times are had by all.

Two moons filled the landscape with pale silver light overhead, surrounded by stars and a small amount of slowly passing clouds. The world was dark and quiet besides the sounds of distant forest animals and insects. The rocky and lightly forested terrain broke away to a clearing, the large grassy space dominated by a massive circle of dark stone, covered in markings and Daedric symbols, carved deep into its surface.

A Dolmen, made to summon a Dark Anchor. One of many constructed by the followers of Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of domination, rape, and brutality, to attempt to pull Nirn into Coldharbour during the time of the Planesmeld. Though, unlike most, this one had been tampered with.

A short dark elf with long, dark plum hair tied back in a ponytail, and soft, nearly pinkish red eyes rubbed at his forehead, sitting in the dark at the edge of the Dolmen, surrounded by books. His unusually soft features were twisted in a look of frustration.  
He wore the robes and decoration of a Telvanni mage, but they were worn and dirty from the time spent here in the middle of nowhere. His attention was drawn to this Dolmen by the mysterious constructions built around its center, and the messy yet very purposeful alterations made to the original carvings in the stone. He had made it his goal to discover the purpose and function of these changes, and who might've made them.  
A talented mage or scholar tampering with things they should not be, perhaps? A Daedra, a worshipper of Molag Bal? Why would they need to alter this one Dolmen? As far as he was aware, these strange changes haven't been made to any other Dolmens.  
He stood and slowly approached the constructions around the center of the Dolmen, eyeing the strange stone and rope structures. He had been at this for days now with no luck, no progress. Even studying the carvings etched atop the original carvings didn't lead to much, but perhaps it could've made sense to someone more experienced in such things. He stopped and put a finger to his chin in thought, considering trying to get someone more knowledgeable to come assist him.

The Telvanni mage startled and slowly started to back away when he noticed some of the carvings start to burn blue, and the structures he had spent so long trying to make sense of slowly started to shake and crumble apart. The loud, booming sound that heralded a Dark Anchor's arrival filled the air.  
After only a few moments the Dolmen was fully active, and the mage sprinted out of the circle, knowing full well he should be running for his life. Though despite the pounding of his heart and the adrenaline and fear coursing through him, he stayed, endlessly confused. The Anchors were only summoned by Worm Cultists performing the ritual and making a sacrifice, and clearly, there were no Worm Cultists here. Stranger still, no Anchors had dropped since the Planesmeld ended three years ago and it was assumed none would ever drop again.  
The portal to Coldharbour was summoned above, filling the sky with blue light and the horrible cacophonous sound that accompanied it. Anchors descended from the portal, and the mage's books and pages were blown away and scattered in the wind. He let them go, frozen in place, watching the scene unfolding before him with wide, frightened eyes.  
He prepared his spells, not knowing what was about to happen. The chained Anchors connected with the dolmen's center and were pulled taught. The sounds and weather of Coldharbour were pouring through the portal, cold, abrasive, and dissonant. Seconds passed, moments passed, where were the Cultists and Daedra that normally came from the portal and occupied the Dolmen?

Just as the mage was about to cautiously approach against his better judgement, he stopped and scrambled back as the portal began to tilt to the side, slowly… falling. It approached the ground rather slowly at first. Then one of the three Anchors was dislodged from the center of the Dolmen, and suddenly the descent of the portal and the large metal ring it was formed inside of was natural and swift.  
The horrible grinding of metal, snapping and twisting of massive chains, and a god awful mechanical whirring sound filled the air. The normal echoing sounds of a functioning Anchor continued but sounded strained and quickened, like a failing and malfunctioning machine was on the verge of breaking on the other side.  
After the Anchor came apart, the portal inside of the ring of black metal falling overhead started to break and fade. Though before it could disappear, something came through, leaping out of the spiraling blue light and hitting the ground sprinting.

The mage tried to cry out, trying to yell at the quickly retreating humanoid figure wearing the clothes of a Worm Cultist to wait, to stay, but it either didn't hear over the sounds of the crumbling Anchor or it ignored him. The portal's light winked out for good as the massive metal ring finished it's swift descent and smashed into the ground from a great height, throwing dirt high up into the air and grinding into the stone of the Dolmen, crumbling and cracking it beyond repair.  
The mage fell back onto the ground and covered his ears as the ear-bursting impact and shrill grinding sound of metal on stone shook the world around him and grated on his ears. The chains clattered onto the dirt and stone and piled atop themselves unceremoniously. One of the Anchors remained slotted into the Dolmen but lie crooked, and the other two had come dislodged in the chaos and fell against the stone, one hard enough to smash and crumble a portion of the circle of rock and the other only enough to crack it. It was a gruesome scene.

As the dust cleared and everything stopped moving, the mage slowly uncovered his ears and stood, staring out at the scene before him in shock, utter confusion, and awe. The Dolmen… was completely destroyed, far beyond repair. The Anchors and portal that usually disappeared once the Anchor was stopped normally were now laid across the ground, surrounded by scattered stone and displaced dirt. This Dark Anchor would not be coming back, ever.  
The mage turned to look in the direction the Cultist had run off into, but… it was gone, disappeared into the night. Following seemed hopeless. The mage had so many questions and no answers. He couldn't understand what had just happened, what he just witnessed, and no one was about to explain it to him.  
He walked around and slowly began to gather whatever books and pages he could manage to find, and then walked off into the night, towards his home. This would be quite the story to tell.

\----------

Luccedian quickly sprinted through dark, blackened stone halls, insufficiently illuminated by blue flame torches. He didn't have much time, he was running out of time. He could hear Dremora stalking the halls and talking to each other, and the fear of being discovered gripped him deep. If he was seen inside of this place, he would surely be sundered alive.  
He knew he wouldn't be caught or seen, however. He knew these halls too well, and he was too swift and quiet to be detected. His footsteps were quick and well-practiced, after years upon years of being raised to stalk, and to kill.

He easily found the room he was heading for, a wide and tall chamber with massive stone spikes and loose chains dangling from the ceiling. The center of the room was occupied by a massive stone circle covered in runes, Daedric writing, and symbols. Three massive coils of heavy black chain and behemoth spinning gears hung from the upper walls, pointing towards the central ring of stone. The room was illuminated by eerie blue light, glinting off of the metal and casting harsh black shadows over a majority of the space.  
Luccedian quickly pulled a confused, compliant, and gagged Soulshriven off of his back, undoing the ropes that held it there. He carefully laid its sad, shriveled body upon the rim of the circle, pulling out a dagger. The miserable creature had no soul, which had been sacrificed to Molag Bal by his own hands, turning what once was a man into a submissive, lethargic husk, used as slaves by the Daedra and Worm Cult. It still had blood, however, and blood was all he needed to activate the circle.  
The Soulshriven was watching him with hollow, sunken eyes, but Luccedian could see the fear in them. This wasn't an unfamiliar look to receive. A part of him felt something akin to guilt, but it was a small feeling. His current mission was far more important, and this husk barely had a life to lose anyway.  
As Luccedian drove the dagger into its chest, it flinched and blood spurted from its mouth. It maintained eye contact with Luccedian, but its empty eyes glazed over and it went limp, it's head slowly rolling to the side. As he withdrew his blade, it returned to him coated in the crimson blood of the shriven, a dark sickly sanguine in the dark light of the room. Usually the sight was exhilarating, but there was no fight or victory here, and no time to waste.

When the blood ran from the slain Soulshriven's chest and touched the runes and symbols on the circle, it all slowly lit up blue, and a portal started to swirl together and fill the space inside of the ring of stone. The gears overhead came to life, spinning slowly at first and then slowly accelerating.  
He peered into the portal, staring into the swirling blue light, imagining his earlier preparations would be activating the Dolmen he laid them onto. It was an incredibly unstable system, he knew, but that was intentional. A Soulshriven was not a suitable sacrifice and his artificial ritual and alterations to the Dolmen were a recipe for disaster. He was going to destroy the Dolmen and take this whole room and perhaps more with it, a massive act of defiance against the plane of Coldharbour and every damned being upon it.  
His timing had to be impeccable. If he went too early, he would hit the ground and die, as this tear into Nirn was too unstable to allow him to reach the ground unharmed like he did every other time he entered Nirn through these portals.

The Worm Cultist's journeys to Nirn through these portals were routine. You enter, you fight, you die. For the mission, in the name of Molag Bal. Luccedian had never been so lucky, he always managed to return alive.

If he went too late, he'd be dumped into the liminal space between planes, the void. That was where this room would inevitably end up, sucked into the unstable half-portal once the opening on Nirn was prematurely destroyed. The chains spilled from the ceiling and into the portal, and Luccedian could hear the sounds of the portal on the other side being summoned. He waited, braced and ready to leap.  
He started counting to himself when he heard the gears start to speed up to an abnormal speed and strain. Halfway through his countdown, the chains dangling from the ceiling slowly started to get pulled towards the portal. The stones in the upper rim of the circle started to quake. Dust and dirt got ripped from its place and flown into the portal. One stone shook, came free from its place, and disappeared into the portal and he could feel the rumble as one of the Anchors below came apart. Now was time to act, as the room began to get pulled in and the portal started to die out.  
He leapt in, everything black and glowing blue for a moment until fresh, warm Nirn air hit his face. His ears met the jarring noises of the crumbling Dark Anchor, and next thing he knew, his feet were impacting with soft, grass covered ground. He didn't wait, didn't linger to see where he was. He ran, sprinting off in whatever direction was ahead of him. He heard someone shout, but that simply encouraged him to run faster. He heard the final impact of the Anchor behind him, but didn't stop to look. He had to move.

\----------

Luccedian alternated between running and walking until the sky started to brighten. He was panting, exhausted, his legs burned and his lungs and chest felt like they would explode. He approached a large rocky outcrop, with a clear view of the horizon. He intended to keep walking, but something made him stop.

He looked out over the outcrop and found himself entranced by the sky. He never thought something so simple, so constant, could distract him so easily, but the sky of Nirn was always a weakness of his. Over the horizon, oranges and pinks were blooming, slowly lighting up the world. He could see the shining white light of the sun peeking over the edge of the landscape, banishing the darkness. The sky in Coldharbour was in a state of constant night, no sun, and no color besides deep blues and black. He wondered to himself if the inhabitants of Nirn appreciated their own sky. But alas, the moment couldn't last. Luccedian shook his head and pressed onward, trying to find somewhere hidden to sit and rest.

He limped on unsteady feet, wincing when he looked up at the sun, now further up in the sky than it was when he last looked. The world was bright and it felt too open, too exposed. Anyone could see him if they simply looked, and he found it discomforting. Perhaps the light wasn't as pleasant as he thought.  
He sighed to himself, walking onward until he found himself in a rocky forest, filled with trees and… mushrooms. Massive mushrooms, the same size as the trees. It was a little shaded here, and Luccedian was glad for it. It was starting to get hot, his robes and armor weren't made for Nirn's weather. He searched around until he found a suitable tree, slowly climbing up.  
Normally such a climb would be trivial, but after walking and running for hours, he was tired and sore. After entirely too much time, he made his way onto a thick and somewhat hidden branch, sitting on it and laying his head against the trunk of the tree, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

After some time of catching his breath, resting his limbs, and looking around for a small while, Luccedian began to notice the signs of civilization near him. He was near a smelly marsh, and there was a town with high walls in the near distance. There was some other type of structure on the other side of the marsh, far away, but he couldn't tell what it was. It was hard to see through the leaves, but he could tell the sun was about ⅓ of the way through the sky now.  
He slowly climbed out of the tree, landing on the ground and stretching. He looked around to make sure nobody was near him before tossing off his packs and starting to remove his armor, intending to remove his robes and leave himself wearing only his armour, shirt, and pants. It was too hot for a robe, and being swift and dexterous was definitely more important than being warm now.

Luccedian stalked the forest with a dagger in hand, light on his feet and tense, ready to fight or flee at any moment, as one needed to be in the harsh lands of Coldharbour. He could hear the sounds of animals and bugs all around him, but they were too far away to be alarming. He found what seemed to be a rough path and followed it, looking around cautiously. Luccedian had spent time on Nirn before, but not alone, and not in any places like this. The unknown terrified him, not knowing what horrors could be before him was dangerous.  
He froze on the path when the bushes nearby rustled. Scanning the foliage, he couldn't see anything immedia tely dangerous. Whatever it was is small, but possibly still deadly. Was it hunting him or hiding from him?  
Slowly, he approached the bush, dagger clutched in his hand. He circled it from a safe distance, footsteps light and slow. He still couldn't tell what was in the bush, so he approached, on high alert and ready to attack or run at any second. As soon as he got within a foot of the bush, however, the creature inside burst out of the side opposite of Luccedian, taking off down the path.  
It had two legs and a scaled back, and definitely didn't seem dangerous. Luccedian took off towards it, chasing it down until he could lunge, pushing it onto the ground and wrapping his arms around it. The poor little creature flailed and made distressed noises but its pleas fell onto deaf ears. Luccedian held it out in both hands to look at it.  
It was definitely some sort of mundane, passive creature. Not a carnivore, probably a prey animal. Two legs with dull claws, a long snout with a squishy, pointed nose. A long barbed tongue kept flicking out of its mouth similar to a snake's tongue. It had fur on its belly and tail. How strange. It didn't seem suitable for meat, so Luccedian decided this wasn't worth his time. He stood and dropped it onto the ground, letting the sad little thing scramble to its feet and run off. Strange…

As the sun set over the forest and marsh, the ex-Cultist was heading back to his original tree with skinned and separated meat hanging from rope slung over his back. The meat was mostly from the big, green, scaled, two-legged things with fat, stupid heads that kept trying to attack him. It was frightening at first to be charged at, then amusing how the weak, arrogant creatures flung themselves at him, then it got tiring quickly as they never learned their lesson watching their fellow beasts die. Hopefully their meat was edible so they were at least worth his time.  
He cleared space and constructed a small fire, striping sticks of their bark and sharpening them into points to skewer chunks of cleaned meat and cook them. Biting into the first well cooked chunk, he decided it was serviceable. Not the best but not disgusting either, it tasted like the dull gray and blue bantam guar found at home, but tougher.

Once his hunger was satisfied, his thirst was satisfied, his water skin was full of the cleanest running water he could find, his muscles were considerably less sore, and the world was dark and easier to hide in once more, Luccedian turned his attention to the nearby town. He could see faint light coming from it, but surely most of its inhabitants were asleep.  
He knew he wouldn't have much luck finding supplies and resources here at night, but it was in his best interest to scope out the town and its inhabitants before welcoming himself in broad daylight with no idea where he was or who these people were. He headed for the town, foolishly hoping for the best.


End file.
